Something Without A Hint of String...or Through Crumbling Halls

As stunning as this star-maze is...

 ...today suddenly I had a craving to see wisps of wild grass brush the big blue beyond...

Within the mold of heave-and-hold, of oh, this-too-shall-pass

Are tucked whispers of moment-gold like stems of flowered grass

Where soft, the bliss of having held melds with the soulful sigh

That seems to come too soon like summer’s September good-bye

The best and worst of days are brushed away by the same hand

The boardwalk swept with snow once sported foot-shaped songs of sand

And all the winter weather loved or loathed by old or young

Melts like a silver snowflake sparkle on Time’s outstretched tongue

Something without a hint of string tugs hard on twilight’s hush

The sun slips like a drop of red paint from a half-poised brush

Then disappears, just like the years that fall away with ease

Until we find our youthful selves startled by creaky knees

…and the sudden awakening to things we once thought small

Where moments, cupped in ticks and tocks are big things After All

They form the tides that storm through crumbling halls of skin and bone

And teach us, by God's grace to humbly embrace grin and groan

© Janet Martin

When Country Visits City...

 On Sunday we visited the city our middle daughter lives and works in....

She trades the rural panorama of meadow and stream

For glades of steel and concrete where sky-scraper spires gleam

And past her window hastes a never ending symphony

Of traffic noise that rushes like a river to the sea

And where a country night is tucked beneath star-studded deep

Her night dazzles with lights and sights and sounds that never sleep

No ribbit-ribbit lullaby, no wild forget-me-nots

Here towers almost touch the sky, here flowers bloom in pots  

Here mother looks a little lost and daughter leads the way

When country visits city for a bitty holiday

© Janet Martin

Whenever I go to the city I feel a little like the country mouse😁

 (mid-video begins the part of the story where country mouse accidentally ends up in the city)

how do I know this?! perks of childcare😉
plus, I love Beatrix Potter stories!

  

Simply Steppingstones...

As soon as I question Your ways, God

I forget my place

I am a sinner washed in Your blood

I am a sinner saved by Your grace!

 But God proves His love for us in this: 

While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

Rom.5:8

Lord, let me not forget my place

I am a sinner saved by grace

What you allot, allow, ordain

Help me accept and not complain

The mind and heart of God, who knows

The love wherefrom all blessing flows

Pours in a mercy-tide to we

Who would be hopeless/helpless without Thee

Our anguish cupped in mortal glove

Often misunderstands Your love

Yet, words are inept to explain

The loss You suffered for our gain

Then, in this leap of hold-let go

Remind us, Lord, each high or low

In all we touch, taste, see and do

Are simply stepping-stones to You

…where all we prize of earthly ties

Is but a vault of veiled good-byes

So let us not forget our place

We are but sinners, saved by grace

© Janet Martin

 
Psalm 59:16
But I will sing of Your strength and proclaim Your loving devotion in the morning. 

For You are my fortress, my refuge in times of trouble.

We Are Family

 Some provinces in Canada are celebrating Family Day today...

Right here, right now some are laying loved ones to their eternal rest,

their names forever etched only in memories, on their family tree.

If we are part of a family, let's never take it for granted!

Let's love/cherish one another while we can in every way we can!

I love this poem by Edgar A. Guest...

We Are Family...

Of bark-and-bite

And hold-me-tight

Of learning while we teach

Hearts over flow

While arms let go

Where yearning kindles reach

And happiness

Is made of mess

And mess is made by we

Who, humbly blessed

Have known life’s best

For we are family

Love’s ecstasy

And agony

Its fireballs deploy

We scale and dredge

The height and depth

Of both sorrow and joy

Where push and pull

Cannot annul

Blood-lined affinity

Nor winds nor sea

Uproot this tree

For we are family

The Hand that weaves

The limbs and leaves

We trace back to our roots

Designs the vines

With quirks and lines

Unique to its own fruit

Where why we are

The way we are

Would be easy to see

If you had known

Great Uncle John

Well… we are family

Where our nose

Or gait exposes

More than we may guess

And old photos

Might startles those

Who look past formal dress

To recognize

In stance or eyes

Familiarity

As we embrace

The names we trace

That makes us family

Then live-laugh-love

And kiss-hold-hug

The touch of Time is brief

Where far too soon

Death snuffs the croon

And flutter of the leaf

To take its place

Where fingers trace

The phantom filigree

That brings us to

The me-and-you

And makes us family

© Janet Martin

The Stick-Together Families

By Edgar Guest

The stick-together families are happier by far
Than the brothers and the sisters who take separate highways are.
The gladdest people living are the wholesome folks who make
A circle at the fireside that no power but death can break.
And the finest of conventions ever held beneath the sun
Are the little family gatherings when the busy day is done.

There are rich folk, there are poor folk, who imagine they are wise,
And they're very quick to shatter all the little family ties.
Each goes searching after pleasure in his own selected way,
Each with strangers likes to wander, and with strangers likes to play.
But it's bitterness they harvest, and it's empty joy they find,
For the children that are wisest are the stick-together kind.

There are some who seem to fancy that for gladness they must roam,
That for smiles that are the brightest they must wander far from home.
That the strange friend is the true friend, and they travel far astray
they waste their lives in striving for a joy that's far away,
But the gladdest sort of people, when the busy day is done,
Are the brothers and the sisters who together share their fun.

It's the stick-together family that wins the joys of earth,
That hears the sweetest music and that finds the finest mirth;
It's the old home roof that shelters all the charm that life can give;
There you find the gladdest play-ground, there the happiest spot to live.
And, O weary, wandering brother, if contentment you would win,
Come you back unto the fireside and be comrade with your kin.

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/the-stick-together-families-by-edgar-albert-guest

(some of my family members are trying to decide
if they could quickly 'ease' through mother's flower-garden with a load of wood...)
Yup!

 When you have the name Grandson no bowl is off-limits!

 

The Stick-Together Families

By Edgar Guest

The stick-together families are happier by far
Than the brothers and the sisters who take separate highways are.
The gladdest people living are the wholesome folks who make
A circle at the fireside that no power but death can break.
And the finest of conventions ever held beneath the sun
Are the little family gatherings when the busy day is done.

There are rich folk, there are poor folk, who imagine they are wise,
And they're very quick to shatter all the little family ties.
Each goes searching after pleasure in his own selected way,
Each with strangers likes to wander, and with strangers likes to play.
But it's bitterness they harvest, and it's empty joy they find,
For the children that are wisest are the stick-together kind.

There are some who seem to fancy that for gladness they must roam,
That for smiles that are the brightest they must wander far from home.
That the strange friend is the true friend, and they travel far astray
they waste their lives in striving for a joy that's far away,
But the gladdest sort of people, when the busy day is done,
Are the brothers and the sisters who together share their fun.

It's the stick-together family that wins the joys of earth,
That hears the sweetest music and that finds the finest mirth;
It's the old home roof that shelters all the charm that life can give;
There you find the gladdest play-ground, there the happiest spot to live.
And, O weary, wandering brother, if contentment you would win,
Come you back unto the fireside and be comrade with your kin.

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/the-stick-together-families-by-e

The Stick-Together Families

By Edgar Guest

The stick-together families are happier by far
Than the brothers and the sisters who take separate highways are.
The gladdest people living are the wholesome folks who make
A circle at the fireside that no power but death can break.
And the finest of conventions ever held beneath the sun
Are the little family gatherings when the busy day is done.

There are rich folk, there are poor folk, who imagine they are wise,
And they're very quick to shatter all the little family ties.
Each goes searching after pleasure in his own selected way,
Each with strangers likes to wander, and with strangers likes to play.
But it's bitterness they harvest, and it's empty joy they find,
For the children that are wisest are the stick-together kind.

There are some who seem to fancy that for gladness they must roam,
That for smiles that are the brightest they must wander far from home.
That the strange friend is the true friend, and they travel far astray
they waste their lives in striving for a joy that's far away,
But the gladdest sort of people, when the busy day is done,
Are the brothers and the sisters who together share their fun.

It's the stick-together family that wins the joys of earth,
That hears the sweetest music and that finds the finest mirth;
It's the old home roof that shelters all the charm that life can give;
There you find the gladdest play-ground, there the happiest spot to live.
And, O weary, wandering brother, if contentment you would win,
Come you back unto the fireside and be comrade with your kin.

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/the-stick-together-families-by-edgar-albert-guest